


roses are red

by starryeyedhomicide



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M, and flowers. lots of flowers, dhsjsksk, i promised myself I’d write smn for valentines and HERE WE ARE, oh god it’s here, prepare for light angst and a lot of confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedhomicide/pseuds/starryeyedhomicide
Summary: This was a mistake, he thought. He was sure of it. He just.. wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was. Crowley’s mind never seemed to take him in the right place, and now he could barely remember how he ended up in his plant room surrounded by roses.Crowley is a homosexual dumbass and you’ll almost definitely figure the plot out before he does... fhsjssk
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56





	roses are red

**Author's Note:**

> HI YALL HAPPY VALENTINES  
> HERE IT IS AAAAAA I WROTE THIS AT LIKE MIDNIGHT SURVIVING ON ONLY KITKATS AND DESPERATION  
> don’t ask just enjoy  
> EDIT: HI HELLO SORRY FORGOT TO POST IN RICH TEXT SO EVERYONE’S THOUGHTS ARE ITALICISED NOW WHICH WILL BE A LOT EASIER TO READ CHDJSKS AAAAAAA

_ This was a mistake _ , he thought. He was sure of it. He just.. wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was. Crowley’s mind never seemed to take him in the right place, and now he could barely remember how he ended up in his plant room surrounded by roses. It definitely had something to do with alcohol, though, because he could feel the wine in his mouth and his veins - however forgetful he was he’d usually be able to figure out how he’d got there, so… why didn’t he remember anything? Sobering up, he winced and stretched up off the floor, bones moving in a way any human would find either elegantly strange or unsightly. He waited impatiently for the memories to flood back, but nothing. Silence. The demon glared at the blooming rose bushes, wanting to blame something, and they shrank back in fear. He smirked - even if he got blackout drunk, at least he was still scary.

Right then. To business.

As he changed clothes - he could miracle some but he was too tired - he thought about what could have happened. He certainly couldn’t trust himself; he was a demon! The first rule of hell was not to trust demons! ..But he had an awful sinking feeling that the roses might have something to do with the fact it was Valentine’s day - today? Turning on his phone, he was proved right. The one sappy holiday that was an excuse for capitalism to go wild with selling chocolates and cards and teddy bears - he hated it. But Down There loved it, because even though it was a day of love it was so easy to make things go wrong. Forgetting was a main one, but a surprisingly high rate of unfaithfulness occurred; and most of the time that wasn’t even on them - they just loved to watch the chaos unfold.

Upon checking his phone, Crowley was confronted with a missed call from ‘Angel’, at 11:55pm, no less. The confusion he felt was short-lived, because at the thought of Aziraphale his heart went into overdrive.  _ Not again,  _ he sighed miserably - he’d long since accepted that he was in love with his best friend but he knew that nothing could ever come of it. How could an angel love a demon? How could a demon love? He was wrong, bad, defective - and not only because he’d abandoned Hell, but because these terrible terrible feelings had seeped into his supposedly dark heart thousands of years ago and  _ stayed there. _ Ugh.

He pondered why Aziraphale had called him as he strolled (stumbled graciously) to the Bentley, but he figured he’d find out soon enough as he was going to the bookshop. Their date rendezvous - but of course, this wasn’t a date. Two platonic friends having a platonic friendly outing in a platonic and friendly way was completely fine - the fact that it coincided with a romantic holiday meant nothing! Nothing at all! Besides, they were together almost every day, seeing as they had nothing better to do. The real reason was that they just enjoyed each other’s company, and Crowley knew they did - they  were best friends - but both were too proud to admit it. At this thought, Freddie Mercury’s melodic voice blasted through the speakers, ‘ _ Ooh, you make me live now, honey…’  _ and Crowley mentally cursed the Bentley for playing that specific song just because. The Bentley didn’t reply (naturally), but the following growl in the engine almost sounded like a smirk. 

Pulling up to the curb, Crowley turned the key and hesitated in his seat. He swallowed and closed his eyes behind dark glasses - today couples would be bloody everywhere, and Aziraphale would definitely be affected by all the love. He wasn’t so worried that it would be awkward than instead the fact that the angel would be sure to mention it, and then there would be a conversation, and any conversation involving Aziraphale and love was dangerous territory. His chest twinged and he pushed any emotion down, deep down into the void of his mind and stepped out of the car, squinting at the freezing sunlight. He walked up to the door, clicked his fingers and stepped in with a grin at the familiar sight of old books and the scent of faded wine and lavender. But then something caught his eye. Something that he did not expect to be in the bookshop at all.

Bustling out of the back room at the sound of the bell, Aziraphale greeted Crowley with a warm smile, a spring in his step, and something new in his eyes.

“Good morning Crowley! It’s rather cold out, isn’t it? I’ll fetch my coat.” he walked straight past him and to the coat rack, not bothering with the unnecessary pleasantries. Crowley’s mind raced; why was he acting as if everything was normal when it clearly wasn’t? Everything was certainly not normal because there were flowers in the bookshop when there had not been two days before. Red roses, everywhere - a bouquet that had been carefully put in a water jug, roses on bookcases and flower petals scattered on the floor.  _ What happened here??? _ He yelled internally,  _ It looks like a florist exploded! _

“Well. Let’s be off then, shall we dear?” Aziraphale smiled expectantly at Crowley, seemingly unaware of the state of the bookshop. Crowley must have been staring, because Aziraphale furrowed his brows and opened his mouth but the demon interrupted, and couldn’t help but ask-

“Why are all these flowers here?” He had to know. He severely doubted Aziraphale would go this far to celebrate Valentine’s day - he’d never done anything before, so this must be the work of someone else. And red roses were a symbol of true love - he knew that by coincidence, of course, it wasn’t like he knew the entire language of flowers- ahem. 

Who had the dedication and the adoration to go this far - he knew that it couldn’t be anyone from either of their sides (although this did look like some miracle work) so it must be a human. And a simple admirer wouldn’t go this far, so that meant… Aziraphale had a mortal partner? At the very thought of this, Crowley burned. In anger, desire and guilt. Anger at the human - how could they steal Aziraphale from him? How could they ever understand what it was like to not be, well, human? No one could understand the angel as well as he could - nothing can compare to 6000 years of friendship (or pining in Crowley’s case). And how could Aziraphale not tell him? This was a huge secret that had been kept from him so he was not pleased - true, he had a right to privacy, but still. And the desire?- was not just for Aziraphale but for doing something like this.

Yes, he loved the angel with all of his soulless being - who made him blush and press his hands into his face at the very thought of him - but if Aziraphale was allowed to have human lovers then Crowley had certainly missed out on a few. He had more allure than just demon temptation powers, but he never gave in to mortals because his heart was, regretfully, in another place. If only he could have done something like this for the angel - oh, if only he was allowed to, he would romance the socks off Aziraphale. But no. And the guilt; he hated himself so, so much for loving Aziraphale, because he would never love him back, because it was pointless, because he should be  _ over it by now  _ and because he was not allowed to. 

He hated himself for feeling angry - it wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault for falling in love - or at least having a human love him (he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions) - but he still felt like The Almighty would do some kind of grand payoff at the end and that the angel would love him back. They averted the apocalypse - surely he deserved it? It was an impossible fantasy, but when they were drunk and giggling and Aziraphale would lean into his shoulder and murmur wonderful nonsense, his flushed face far too close to be platonic… he just. Hoped. So he felt like he was owed it. But, of course, Aziraphale did not owe him anything, love or not, and the knowledge of this and everything that he was currently feeling sank a deep self-loathing into his stomach that even the strongest of warriors could not haul back up.

While Crowley’s internal monologue was raging, it did not last very long, as demons tend to drive cars as fast as their minds.

He watched something indescribable pass across Aziraphale’s face with intense curiosity, and for a moment was grateful for the sunglasses hiding his golden eyes that were wide as dinner plates. 

“You…? Oh, I-...” The angel seemed very confused for all of five seconds, then swiftly put his jacket back on the coat stand, said

“I don’t actually know my dear.” and walked briskly past him back into the shop and to one of the back rooms, leaving Crowley open-mouthed and standing in the dust.

The angel’s voice wafted from the back, a hint of nervousness in it that left Crowley glued to the spot by the door.

“I’d rather not go out then, if that’s alright with you.” Now this was getting even more confusing.

“Wh- hang on, so someone just broke in here and left you roses? Who-? Aziraphale if someone broke in here I swear to sssssSomebody that I will find them-“

“No! No, I-“ at this Aziraphale walked back and faced the demon with exasperation written into every crease of his face and a tension about him that tilted everything sideways.  _ What is going on here? _ If he didn’t get answers soon, Crowley was going to collapse - preferably into a chair, but you never know with these things.

Aziraphale started saying words and didn’t finish them, growing increasingly desperate, fidgeting with the hem of his waistcoat and and looking everywhere but Crowley, until finally blurting out-

“You did!” 

_ I- what?! _

At the visible shock on Crowley’s face, Aziraphale could see that he would need to be the one doing the talking here, as the demon was not ready to form speech just yet. He took a deep breath, pushed his shoulders back, and looked Crowley squarely in the eyes.

“You… you left the flowers. Last night I was making tea and- and I heard the Bentley pull up. You were outside and you left a bouquet on the doorstep - from the way you were walking you were clearly drunk, and then you snapped your fingers and all these flowers appeared and I-“ Aziraphale stopped talking and looked away.

“I thought… maybe you wanted to... That- that it meant something. But you don’t remember, so it doesn’t, and you were drunk and-. And it doesn’t mean anything and I’m being silly.” Aziraphale turned away so Crowley couldn’t see the tears brimming in his eyes - because just when he thought the love of his life was finally saying something that meant he hadn’t been living an unrequited existence for 6000 years, he was proven wrong and now he’d gone and revealed the very thing he tried so hard to keep a secret to all those around him. 

Crowley, meanwhile, had gone from internal screaming to absolute carnage.

Aaaaaand now it made sense. Last night was vaguely coming back to him - he’d felt shitty about Valentine’s day and so indulged in alcohols stronger than wine, and then thought it was a brilliant idea to leave Aziraphale some roses and confess in the morning - miracling his best plants to produce the finest roses ever seen and dropping them off at his doorstep at near midnight. Blinking out of the memory, he realised that Aziraphale had his back turned to him and was breaking shakily. Now was his chance.

Laying a hand gently on Aziraphale’s shoulder, the angel jumped and turned around, cheeks wet and eyes soaked in tiredness and heartbreak. Crowley removed his shades and put them clumsily in his pocket - something he’d never normally do, but there was a situation to be taken care of, and today was not a normal day. He surprised both of them by pulling him into a hug, arms curling tightly around Aziraphale’s back and pushing his face into his shoulder tightly - who at first froze but then slowly, cautiously, put his hands on Crowley’s back, just above where his wings would be, and gave in to the embrace.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley couldn’t believe he was saying it after all this time and nearly choked on the words, but forced them out regardless.

“I have loved you for a very, very long time.” when he mumbled these words into the angel’s shoulder he tensed, but didn’t say anything, and Crowley took this as a sign to continue talking. He did not let go of Aziraphale.

“I’m.. I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner and for making us both wait this long, and I’m sorry for not remembering that I did all of… this,” (he gestured vaguely) “and-“ Aziraphale pulled back and smiled at him so softly that he thought the world was going to end in that very second. 

“My dear, it’s not your fault at all - I think we’re both to blame for harbouring these feelings but not commenting- I think it’s all just… ineffable.” He grinned teasingly. 

“And as for remembering, well. You can be rather foolish when you’re drunk.” 

“Oi!” And now they were back to the playful banter that was normalness. Everything had changed, but also not much had changed because they had both been in love with each other for so long that openly acting that way would not be too different that usual.

“Right.”

“Right.” What were they to do now? The question hung in the air, but without speaking they decided that this was best discussed over lunch. Gathering their coats, Aziraphale wiped his eyes and offered his hand to Crowley.  _ That’s a thing we can do now, oh my god.  _ He tried his hardest not to grin adoringly.

“Shall we?”

“Of course! It’s rather a lovely day, isn’t it?”

And despite the fact that it was Valentine’s day and it was February and it was bloody cold, Crowley smiled.

“You know what?” He took his hand and squeezed it tightly, putting his sunglasses back on with the other and stepping out of the bookshop and into the world.

“It really is.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope that was okay!! I,m t i r e d  
> ps I’m taking submissions for my valentine so if there’s any volunteers hmu dhsjsksk @starryeyedhomicide on tumblr  
> im jk but fr comment or ill steal your eyeballs  
> PS: dear K - this is for you (you know who you are)  
> :)


End file.
